


Reminiscing

by Joe_Reaves



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: Christmas, Established Relationship, Ficlet, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-04-09
Updated: 2010-04-09
Packaged: 2017-10-08 20:00:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 989
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/79012
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Joe_Reaves/pseuds/Joe_Reaves
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Angel and Spike talk about Christmas past.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Reminiscing

"I hate bloody American Christmases," Spike grumbled, slouching on the couch in front of the TV.

"Then why are you watching..." Angel leaned over to see what was on television. "The Snoopy Christmas thing? You can't get much more American than that. And you know, if you want a proper Christmas, you could get off your arse, put your blood down for a minute and actually give me a hand. Unless it's too much trouble?"

"Well, actually, mate, it is a bit. I mean, if I do that, the blood will congeal and I'll have to zap it in the microwave again and that would melt the marshmallows," he explained. "Besides, the film makes me think of Xander. The kid's a bit of a wanker, but he was fun, not as boring as the rest of those wet blankets, and he has a right pair on him. Always used to talk back. Used to reckon if he came face to face with Ol' Nick himself he'd crack a joke."

"Alexander Harris is an annoying waste of space and I don't care if it ruins your marshmallows; put the blood down, and get over here and help me hang these garlands before I hang you, William!" Angel growled.

Spike sighed and grudgingly got up to hold the greenery in place as Angel pinned it to the wall. "Why are we stuck in California anyway? At least if we were in New York or somewhere we'd have snow. Isn't Christmas without a proper snow."

"We're stuck here because this is where I live and I don't remember you liking snow so much back when we used to have to hunt in it," Angel snapped.

"It's cold and wet, but it's Christmas," he explained. "Gotta have snow at Christmas; besides, it goes all red when you kill someone and the blood sort of soaks into the snow and makes it all pink before it melts. Looks all dramatic and everything and scares the hell out of whoever finds the body. 'S'great."

Angel glared at him. "Will you just shut up and hold this?" he ordered. "If you're going to reminisce, can you at least remember something nice? Like the food. Proper roast goose with all the trimmings. Christmas pudding with coins and stuff in it to tell your future."

Spike raised an eyebrow. "OK, even when I was human, I thought that was stupid. Nothing but a good way to break a tooth or choke to death over dinner if you ask me. The decorations were nice though and you're not doing a bad job here actually, mate. Didn't think you celebrated Christmas any more. Wouldn't want to risk getting too happy, after all."

"I don't think a few sprays of evergreen and a Yule log are going to give me a moment of perfect happiness," Angel said dryly. "Maybe you're just easier to please."

"You remember the Christmas Balls?" Spike continued as if Angel hadn't spoken. "All the men dressed in those fancy suits, not really my thing but you used to look bloody fantastic in them. And the women! All this bare skin they show off now might be all right, but I prefer a bit of mystery in my women. Those beautiful dresses in every colour you could imagine, fancy hairdos, dancing and blushing. Could have watched them all night."

"From what I remember, until you were turned, watch was about all you did do," Angel pointed out. "And after we turned you, you were more into the streetwalkers and pickpockets."

Spike shrugged. "OK, that's something we still do, the hypocrisy. All the rich people dressing up to the nines and partying and the poor out in all weathers, scraping a living and freezing to death while no one sees them. Never seemed right to me."

"You've got a soft spot for street kids and whores," Angel said. "Not sure why, because that phoney accent aside, you were one of the rich bastards who would walk past a matchseller without even seeing her."

Spike shrugged. "Maybe, but I see them now. Doesn't seem right. Of course now they're more likely to be selling drugs than matches. Ooh, you remember the chestnut sellers?" He bounced slightly. "In Covent Garden, buy a whole cone of them for a penny. Used to warm you right up, they did. No one does those any more. Christmas in America sucks."

Angel shook his head. "You miss the oddest things, but you're right. The Victorians knew how to celebrate Christmas. London was the place to be in December. Easy pickings at the balls or on the streets, too, if you were looking for a meal. All those elegant ladies letting you lure them into dark corners, or the streetwalkers willing to give you anything you wanted for less than the price of a newspaper. Wouldn't want to be there now though, not remembering what it used to be like. It's not the same; practically no difference between there and here, except the snow. It's all commercial, all about getting as much loot as possible, watching crappy TV, and eating till you're sick. If we're going to have to see that, I'd rather see it in America than have it ruin my memories of London."

Spike stared at him. "Thought you didn't care. Turns out you're soft on Christmas after all."

Angel raised an eyebrow. "And you're not?"

Spike shrugged. "Can't help it. I am a Victorian, after all." He grinned. "God Bless Us Every One!"

Angel laughed and tossed a pine-cone at him. "Lunatic."

"Poof."

"Nutcase."

"Big girl's blouse!"

They both started laughing. "Now this is starting to feel like one of those Christmases," Spike grinned. "Decorations, blood, and us fighting. Come on, I want to watch my film, you can finish that up later. Grab a cup of blood and put your feet up in front of the telly, like a proper American Christmas."


End file.
